Cuddlebug
by Margay96
Summary: Wade Wilson loves cuddling. Peter Parker? Not so much. Of course, that's all about to change.


Wade loved cuddling. There was just something about snuggling into his partner's embrace that made him feel wanted. It wasn't fair to say that he loved it more than sex, though it wouldn't be completely inaccurate to say that he craved the intimacy of post-coital snuggling _almost_ more than the act itself.

Cuddling had always been a big part of his relationships, and what he had with Spidey was no different. Except that it was. Wade's initial efforts to cuddle were met with surprise at first, and then eventually resignation.

Wade wasn't completely unused to that, but usually any disinclination stemmed from disgust towards how he looked or simply that his partners were never looking for more than a casual one night stand with no strings attached. But he was dating Peter, and Peter had assured him multiple times that no, he didn't have a problem with the way Wade looked, and no he wasn't asexual, and 'No Wade, for the forty billionth time, I am not a skrull.' The only logical conclusion that Wade had ever been able to conjure up was that Peter didn't like to cuddle, a concept that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Ever since his realization, Wade had made it his mission to get Peter to enjoy being cuddled. Whenever he had time, Wade would seize his boyfriend and throw them on the couch together so that they landed in a tangle of legs and arms. If Peter was watching TV, Wade did his best to crawl into his lap. Whenever they were out in public together, Wade made sure that at least one of Peter's arms were draped around his shoulders and his head was nestled in the crook of Peter's neck.

Peter always tolerated Wade's efforts, and made the obligatory grunts and hums to signify that yes, he was enjoying this, and no, he wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest. Yet whenever the opportunity presented itself, Peter would bounce off of the couch or bench, or swindle Wade out of his cuddle time by turning the comfortable cozy moment into one filled with hot breathy moans and tongues in places where they really had no business being, but damn did it feel good.

He always had an excuse too. It was always 'Sorry sugar pie, I thought I heard someone at the door' or 'not now sweetums, we're in public. He had even thrown in the ironically cruel 'you're just too beautiful for me to resist right now honey, why would I want to do this when I can do _this.'_ He was always respectful, and he had yet to make Wade feel unwanted, he chose his words so carefully. Nevertheless, Peter's actions left Wade feeling empty and unfulfilled, and he felt himself growing hollower every day.

Eventually, Wade just gave up. He still yearned for the gentle touching the he knew his baby boy to be capable of, but if Peter didn't want to cuddle, then he wouldn't force him too. If Peter was happy, then well, he could force himself to be happy too.

Then one night, that all changed.

Spider-Man trudged home sopping wet and shivering so hard that he could hardly walk. Afraid of hypothermia, Wade wrestled Peter out of his clothes and plucked the largest, fluffiest fleece he could find from where it had been neatly folded over the couch. Shucking off his own clothes, Wade draped himself over Peter and threw the blanket over them both. He pressed himself against his baby boy, trying desperately to warm him up by bear hugging him with one arm and rubbing small circles with the other to increase Peter's circulation.

While Wade might have been panicking, Peter found himself gradually relaxing. He told himself it was just the hypothermia; that the cold was slowly freezing his brain, but he found himself growing content. He hadn't realized how _soft_ his boyfriend's muscles were. From a distance, they looked firm enough to bounce a quarter off of, but now, through his delirium, he swore they must be made out of memory foam or something else equally as soft and comfortable. He couldn't say that he particularly cared for the way Wade was stroking him, but he reveled in the subtle ripples of Wade's muscles that he felt as the hand circled. He smirked at the way Wade had locked their legs together and wriggled around just so that he could entangle their legs further and increase the amount of body contact. He…he could see why Wade liked this.

Over time, Peter's pathetic whimpers turned into contented sighing, and Wade finally allowed himself to relax. They spent the entire night like that, each relishing the chance to bask in the innocent intimacy they had created.

…

Ever since that night, Peter had been more than willing to cuddle. Willing, that is, provided that he was the little spoon. Upon Wade's insistence, they had tried to revert back to their old snuggling habits, wherein Peter obligingly wrapped his arms around Wade and did his best to simply cherish the moment and not to think about how his arm was falling asleep or to wonder what he was going to make for dinner (Nothing. The answer was always nothing because he was a terrible cook and Wade actually loved being in the kitchen, so he just prepared all of their meals). He failed miserably every time.

Fortunately, Wade seemed to catch on pretty quickly, and thus their roles were solidified. Peter was the little spoon and Wade was the big spoon, something he threw himself into wholeheartedly. At least at first.

Peter had always had great bone structure, a fact that Wade was always captivated by. Not so much anymore. Peter's shoulder stabbed his pecs and his knee always bashed against Wade's thigh whenever his baby decided to snuggle in a little closer. Wade was flattered, naturally, but at the same time he just sort of wanted to slice off that leg and feed it through a wood chipper. But like, romantically and with the utmost love.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Wade found a solution. If he shifted his pelvis _down_ and his baby boy _up_ , then he could save his boys from the ever present menace that was Peter's tail bone. And if he put his put his leg _just so_ and wrenched his whole body slightly to the side, then the aforementioned kneecaps of hell couldn't do any damage. The shoulder blades were an entirely different sort of problem, one that Wade discovered he could solve if he bent his body sideways and then folded his self over Peter like a hot dog bun.

Peter didn't seem to mind or notice that Wade had suddenly become a fucking octopus, and really, Wade wasn't _that_ uncomfortable, so they both just enjoyed each other's company and melted into one another's embrace.


End file.
